Daggers by Pelleas
by Gargoyle13
Summary: Pelleas is the fort's smith and doesn't work cheap or for free - even for his own family. So what's this about him giving away daggers?


**Disclaimer:** I am not receiving anything for this. Technically they are not mine – they belong to legend but I have done some creative twisting of character to suit my own vision.

**A/N:** It's been a loooooooong time. This idea came out of a text exchange with Knight's Queen, so credit her with the muse for this one. It's been a while so hopefully this doesn't suck. And if it does…you've been warned.

* * *

Pelleas picked up the rag from the bench next to him as he rose from the stool he'd been sitting upon for hours. Mopping his face, he sighed and shook his head before kicking the worktable hard, knocking the dagger that had been giving him so much trouble onto the floor. Snorting, he shook his head again and thought that was exactly where the godsdamned uncooperative thing belonged. Giving his head another shake, Pelleas bent to retrieve the piece and, when he straightened up, was shocked to see two Knights now standing at the end of the long display bench, arms crossed and staring coldly at him.

Inclining his head slightly, Pelleas mopped his brow again then tucked the sweaty cloth into the waist string of his apron as he slowly approached them. He knew them. Had been one of them in what seemed a lifetime ago…before that stupid Woad had rudely carved out his eye while he had been attempting to take a right piss. "To what do I owe the…" Pelleas paused and picked at his teeth with his tongue for a moment as he thought of how he wanted to classify this unexpected visit.

"Explain something to me, Pelleas…if you would…" Mordred leaned forward, his forearms resting on the top of the bench where he had moved daggers out of the way. "I would like to know how it is that all of us," he jerked his head toward his companion while gesturing behind him at the fort in general with a hand, "who have known you for years…fought alongside you…rode patrols and sat guard shifts…" Mordred paused and snorted with a shake of his long dark curls and a glance at the Knight next to him who was likewise smirking and shaking his head. "How is it that you have no problem taking our coin…demanding our payments up-front before you will even think of handing over a weapon…yet you gave…*GAVE*…" he looked toward the ceiling and shouted the word before fixing cold blue eyes again on the smith, "at least three of your best daggers to a whelp Knight who has no history…no nothing with you…" Mordred stopped and clenched his teeth. At least one of the daggers he had seen in said youngling Knight's possession had been one that he personally had been coveting and hoping to haggle the old bastard smith into accepting a reasonable price for…

"Aye, Pelleas…seems rather…insulting that you would place such demands upon your *brethren*," Agravaine lowered his voice and stretched the word 'brethren' out for emphasis. Much like his brother Mordred, he'd spent a considerable amount of coin in Pelleas' shop and, again like his brother, a particular double-edged boot dagger he'd been wanting had somehow, someway ended up in the possession of this new Knight…and Agravaine knew – they all knew – that with the way Rome paid – or forgot to pay, new Knights were lucky to have enough coins in their pockets to buy a round or two of ale, much less make a purchase from Pelleas.

"Aye…well…you know…" Pelleas shrugged and looked at the gigantic brothers. He knew them quite intimately, having fought beside them for years. During those years, he had also become quite acquainted with their tempers. Leaning on the bench, Pelleas slid his hand under the hilt of one of the daggers on the bench and curled his fingers around it. The piece wouldn't offer much protection but it was something at least.

"Nay…I do not know so please enlighten me. Even for all the times I saved your lousy ass out on the battlefield, despite the fact that he and I," Agravaine smacked his brother on the shoulder, "chased down the godsdamned Woad that hacked out your eye and…well…made certain it was the last eyeball or anything else he claimed from anyone," his sudden chuckle tingled Pelleas' spine as did Agravaine's just as quick return to ranting. "You have never overlooked a payment – never done anything without an advance of some sort…even from your own godsdamned flesh and blood, no less." Agravine snorted and spit on the floor.

"And the larger the advance, the more likely your request would be the first to be fulfilled…at least until someone else came along with more coin…" Mordred ran his tongue over his bottom lip before raking it with his top teeth.

Nodding, Pelleas remained silent for a spell. Using his free hand, he pulled the rag from his apron string and wiped his face before speaking quietly. "My shop. My goods. If that truly bothers the two of you so much, you are free to take your business elsewhere… I hear there is a smith two forts over…does some passable work with very little waiting…" He watched as the two of them exchanged looks of disbelief and hoped he was looking more confident than he felt at the moment.

Before either one could retort they were shoved apart by a small woman stalking between them. The blonde woman stopped just in front of them and spun on her heel. Looking up first at Agravaine and then to Mordred, who had stood and backed away from the bench, she hissed and pointed over their shoulders. "The door is there." Without waiting to see if they understood her meaning or heeded her words, she spun back around and fixed her gaze upon Pelleas.

Biting back laughs, the brothers winked and shook their heads at Pelleas knowing she would give him all he could handle on their behalf before turning and heading for the door as had been instructed.

Swallowing hard, Pelleas forced a smile and quickly let go of the dagger he'd been gripping to reach for the beautiful woman glaring at him. "Dearest…"

Smacking his hand away, she huffed and scowled. "Do not 'dearest' me, Pelleas… Do you know what that little rodent told me? Do you?" Vivienne didn't wait for her husband to respond. "He told me that you were in the business of giving daggers away…that you had given three – THREE!" her voice screeched as she emphasized the number and Pelleas winced ever so slightly, "of your best pieces to some new Knight who has yet to get paid by Rome… I told him he was wrong, that there is no way that my husband did such a thing because Pelleas does not work for free and I would rip his tongue out of his filthy little skull for spreading such rumours…"

"I did."

"You did what?"

"I gave him three daggers."

"You did what?" Vivienne screeched at the top of her lungs, then stopped and stared at her husband before her temper flared again and her rant began anew. "Why would you do such a thing? You charge everyone and get every last coin you are owed… This…he…I cannot…" Words were failing her in her fury. "He is no one…nothing…"

"Enough." Pelleas very rarely raised his voice to his wife but he had heard more than enough, from her and the brothers. "I will tell you as I told the other two – my shop, my goods, and I will do with them as I please." He heard the protest begin and shook his head. "I said enough. It is done. He will pay me when and if he is able. And if he is not, then…" Pelleas shrugged and watched as his wife fumed silently then turned and stormed out. Sighing, Pelleas thought of a saying he had heard when he'd arrived on this godsforsaken island, something to the effect of how no good deed ever goes unpunished and he could not help but snort and mutter how very right that was indeed.

_Months later…_

Pelleas was working late. His business had not slowed and despite the threats of the gigantic brothers who were just as gigantic pains in his ass to take their business elsewhere, they had not. None of the Knights, old or new, had. In fact, the demands from the Knights had seemingly multiplied overnight. Grumbling to himself, Pelleas wondered if he should have told them all to take their daggers and collectively shove them up their asses. Every damn day someone seemed to stop by to ask for this or that or attempt to haggle for this dagger or that sword… At least Vivi had finally calmed down. Or at least calmed down as much as was possible for her, meaning it would take more than three sentences for her to threaten to rip your tongue from your head if you did not stop speaking. Pausing, a thought crossed Pelleas' mind that made him chuckle and shake his head…then stop suddenly and squint at the fire, lost in thought about the last time Vivi had been like this.

He jumped and put his hand on his chest when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat beside him. On his blind side. Turning quickly, Pelleas growled and then sighed at the sight of the lean figure, who simply smirked and moved to the bench.

"I have some money…" Tristan's voice was quiet as he slipped the coins from his belt. "The Romans…" He sighed and shook his head. Stupid Romans. How could they have created an empire that stretched so vast yet could not manage the simplest tasks…like making sure they had enough coin to make payroll?

Walking to the bench, Pelleas looked down at the few coins and nodded. Cupping his hand over them, he slid them back toward the man he'd heard referred to as 'Shadow'. "Keep them. You need them more than I do."

"No." Tristan shook his head and slid them back toward the smith. "I have heard that your kindness was the cause of the unrest…"

"So let them be unrested…unsettled…does them good. Comfortable is deadly for a Knight. Do you know what else is deadly, boy?" Pelleas paused and slid the coins back to the younger, watching as Tristan shook his head slightly. "Being unarmed. I swore that when I was relieved of my service I would never let a Knight go into battle without a worthy weapon. I would not be the cause of a Knight coming home slung over his horse instead of riding upon it."

Tristan slipped the coins back into his belt. If Pelleas would not accept his coin – at least as partial payment – then he felt he had no other choice. Slipping the daggers from their places on his being, Tristan put them on the table. "Then take these back…give me some that will not cause so many problems…"

Rolling his eyes, Pelleas muttered under his breath and held his hand out expectantly. When Tristan's brow furrowed in confusion, Pelleas gestured to his belt. "For the love of all godsfuckingdamned whatever…give me the coins and put the godsdamned daggers back wherever you had them hidden…" He thought he saw a small, brief smile on the younger Knight's lips but it vanished as Tristan quickly put the coins into the smith's calloused hand.

"I hope to have the rest…" Tristan stopped when he heard the grunt from Pelleas.

"This is fine. I do not want any more of your coins. You are scrawny enough and if you do not get a decent meal into you, I will be getting my daggers back anyway."

"Then…?" Tristan paused as he was replacing the daggers into their sheaths in various locations on his person and cocked his brow at the elder.

"Keep that old, slow, has-been-never-really-was-as-good-of-a-Knight-as-he-has-fooled-everyone-into-believing-he-is and pain-in-everyone's-ass brother of mine that I have heard has taken you under his tutelage…as if he has anything that he could teach anyone except how to irritate the life out of someone…keep his ass alive for a bit longer. If you cannot do that because you come to your senses and kill him yourself…" Pelleas shrugged at Tristan and again swore he saw the faintest smile. "If that seems too impossible of a task, well…I have been having some trouble with small things disappearing…a mallet…a few small daggers…and I hear you are good at deterring folks…"

"No harm will come to Beds as long as I can help it and nothing else will disappear from your forge. Ever." Tristan inclined his head at the older smith.

"Then the daggers are yours and your debt is paid in full." Pelleas extended his hand and nodded as Tristan took it and they shook. "To be clear, of the two, I would far prefer the thieving to stop than to have Beds kept alive…" Pelleas smiled and shrugged while Tristan shook his head and quietly told Pelleas he would pass his greetings along to Beds as he released the smith's hand and left.

It was only two days later that Pelleas awoke to find two incredibly frightened youths waiting at the forge, his missing mallet and daggers in a bag that they hastily handed over, along with profuse apologies and promises that they would never ever ever ever enter the forge again without his express permission and they would never ever ever steal anything from anyone ever again before they took off running as fast as their feet would take them. Chuckling to himself, Pelleas waved in all directions so that whatever shadow Tristan was lurking in, watching, he would know the boys had fulfilled whatever Tristan had directed them to do under what Pelleas was certain was a promise of a very painful death if they did not.


End file.
